


Playing Games

by orphan_account



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Bottom Rhys, Cardiophilia, Desk Sex, Dom Jack, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Heartbeat Kink, Jack Being an Asshole, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Rhys loves it, Rimming, Sub Rhys, Teasing, Top Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:59:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6168184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finds a way to make Rhys confess one of his kinks. Rhys plays along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Games

**Author's Note:**

> Please throw me into the Rhack garbage bin. I regret nothing. 
> 
> P.S. The choking is consensual but this is a drabble and I was too lazy to introduce it. I'm just dipping my toes in this fandom at the moment.

Rhys can't remember how he got here, bent over Handsome Jack's office, wearing nothing but his socks, but he can't say he's complaining.

Jack is behind him, running his warm hands over his sides and teasingly pushing his clothed cock against Rhys' ass. It's infuriating and hot as all hell, having the older man focusing on him, basically eating him up with his eyes alone, a satisfied smirk on his face. But Rhys is also hard and hot all over and Jack just won't stop teasing him, making him push back against his crotch and his hands and it causes needy sounds to escape his mouth, probably just a litany of nonsense with no real meaning. 

Jack slaps his ass at which Rhys yelps, hands grasping the desk harder at the contact. Jack seems to be enjoying himself, considering the low, amused huff of breath against Rhys' back. It makes goosebumps arise on his skin, his legs positively trembling by now. 

"We can stay here forever, kitten. You know what I want." Jack leans down and whispers in his ear, voice dark and full of promise and Rhys whimpers, his traitorous cock twitching. 

He hates Jack, with his impossible attitude and his fucking stupid face and his unfairly attractive body. He also might've confessed that he has certain... thoughts about him. Thoughts that he didn't openly share with his boss, and so he has found... alternative ways of making him speak. So far, Jack has managed to tear out at least two fantasies from him while in the middle of frantic sex, and Rhys has no doubt he'll get a third one today, especially with the way his heart is pounding in his chest and the way he already feels light-headed from the lack of stimulation. 

"Well, have anything to say for yourself, pumpkin?" Jack drawls, voice honey and milk and danger underneath. With Jack, everything is leaning towards a threat, his voice demanding submission and exhibiting control. Rhys would be lying if he said he didn't get off to it multiple times before he actually met the man. And after. 

Rhys' breathing picks up and he wills it to slow down, takes a few deep breaths for good measure. It doesn't make him any less calm. There's so much he could tell Jack and he doesn't know where to start, not to mention just thinking about his fantasies has him blushing an impressive shade of pink. He tries to speak, but his voice cracks and so he awkwardly coughs, tries again. 

"R-rimmimg." he says quietly and hopes Jack didn't hear him, but if his startled laughter is anything to go by, he heard him loud and clear. 

"Oh, princess, you're so cute. You were embarrassed about telling me that? Well, let me tell ya something. Your ass is... well, it's a pretty awesome ass, to be honest. I'd know, considering how often I find my dick in it." Jack snorts, and Rhys' blush extends all the way to his ears and even down his neck, and he feels exposed and wrong and so good. He doesn't have time to respond however, Jack already continuing. 

"So, yes, cupcake, I can totally see myself taking a piece of this." He says as he slaps Rhys' ass again to make his point. 

"You'll totally make the prettiest noises now, won't you? I know what you think about my mouth, kiddo, and I gotta say I can't wait to prove you right."

And with that Rhys feels him shifting, thinks he's going to get down but instead Jack pulls him over the desk, makes him sit with his ass up in the air. It shatters his balance and Rhys is grasping the table harder, a confused "Wha-?" leaving his mouth. 

"You didn't think Handsome Jack would get on his knees now, did you, kiddo?" Jack murmurs, his hands tirelessly kneading Rhys' ass. Rhys just lets out a whine and decides to not gratify that with a reply, too far gone to even make sense anymore. 

Before he can shift into a more comfortable position, Jack is gripping his hips and bringing his face close to Rhys' ass, and Rhys can feel his breath on his skin, can imagine the smug smirk on his face. He doesn't even have time to react before Jack's tongue is working him open, a strangled groan being the only response he gets. 

It's so good, Jack's tongue wicked and wet and making Rhys want to dry hump the desk. He won't though, he'll be good. He knows Jack doesn't like it when he comes without his cock, and he's not about to get punished now. This is a reward, Rhys notes absently. A reward for being good, for being honest with Jack. He smiles a little, letting out another moan when Jack twists his tongue just so. Rhys wants it to last forever. 

Regardless, after a few minutes of work, in which Rhys' hole has become sloppy with Jack's spit, the latter decides to just... get up like nothing happened. Rhys is alarmed thinking he won't get to come but then Jack is in his field of view again, a bottle of lube in his hand and a downright predatory grin on his face. Rhys whines and presses against Jack's fingers, two of them breaching him at once. 

"Look at you, pumpkin. You want it all, don't you? My fingers are not enough, are they? No, they're not, you want my cock, is that right?" He asks and Rhys assumes he isn't expecting a reply, until his fingers suddenly stop and Rhys realises he needs to say something. 

"Y-yes, sir." He stutters, the pleasure in his veins like molten lava, making his thoughts processes focus on one thing only - Jack's fingers, which have started moving again, albeit slowly. Rhys wants to scream. 

"Yes what, cupcake?" Jack whispers, his voice much closer and Rhys realises his lips are right next to Rhys' ear, a thrill spiking through his spine. 

"Yes, sir, I want your cock." Rhys moans quietly, and Jack seems to accept that as a valid response, as he adds a third finger and thrusts them into Rhys' hole, punching a moan out of the younger man. 

Rhys honestly feels like he's floating, the exhilaration of getting close to being fucked by Handsome Jack himself bringing him just the smallest little bit closer to the brink. And then Jack is removing his fingers and turning him around, his back against the unforgivingly cold desk. His eyes are wild, alive with excitement and it makes Rhys warm all over, makes him forget about the slightly uncomfortable position. Jack manages to have control of himself for just a few seconds more before he's getting rid of his pants and boxers just enough to take out his cock, pushing into Rhys at an almost agonisingly slow pace. 

Rhys wants to mewl in complaint but the pace picks up soon enough, Jack apparently impatient as always when it comes to getting his release. At some point he realises Jack isn't using his hands to hold his hips anymore, and that's just because he can feel them against his throat, cutting off his air in a way that makes everything else more intense. He can feel his heart rate increasing, and he sees rather than feels Jack moving one of his hands to his chest, pressing it against his heart. The other hand is still securely around Rhys' neck, showing no signs of stopping when it comes to applying pressure.

Rhys can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and it's so exhilarating he feels like he might burst. Jack seems to be getting off on it too,  a focused look on his face, sweat dripping down his temples. His signature smirk is still in place though, beautiful and dangerous and for some reason part of Rhys life. 

"Rhysie, look at you. I pretty much have your life in my hands right now, and still you're getting turned on it by it. I could literally kill you right now, completely cut off your air or snap your neck, and still you're just here helplessly begging for my cock, even without words, aren't you?" His grin gets even bigger if possible, and his eyes are twinkling in mischief, and Rhys is so fucking turned on it hurts. 

He manages the smallest nod and Jack chuckles again, a dark sound against Rhys' shoulder. Rhys needs to breathe, needs the air, and Jack knows it, can see the slight fear in the younger man's eyes. He keeps choking him until Rhys feels delirious and his bones stop feeling like bones and start feeling like jelly, his mind running in multiple directions, such as "Holy shit this feels fucking amazing" while also thinking "I'm gonna die I'm so fucking dead, he's gonna kill me". 

Jack slowly lets up, takes a deep breath himself and barely gives Rhys any time to breathe again before his hand is back at his throat in a tighter grip than before, his cock aiming at his prostate. He hasn't moved his hand from Rhys' chest, his heart quick under his skin. 

"Oh, pumpkin, the things I wanna do to you. Your heart's beating so fast for me right now, I can feel it going crazy just because big, bad Jack is fucking you and pretty much has control over whether you live or die. Who knew you were so fucking kinky, kiddo?" Jack laughs again, but Rhys can tell he's close by the way his control seems to slip and his hips start to move more chaotically, chasing his own orgasm. 

A few more well placed thrusts, Jack's hand finally letting go of his throat for good and letting him breathe for real, and Rhys is moaning and coming untouched, harder than he has before, covering his stomach and panting like he just ran a marathon through the aftershocks. At the feeling of the younger man clenching around his cock, Jack lets go as well, a muffled moan being pressed into Rhys' skin, his body collapsing on top of Rhys'. Rhys doesn't mind. 

He also doesn't mind the slight soreness than follows him for days, or the shocked looks people give him when they see faded fingerprints on his throat. 

Jack doesn't mind either, especially because he can gloat about being the one to leave those on Rhys' skin.


End file.
